Ever get the feeling you've been cheated?

John Lydon, 1978

Cast your minds back to December 2008. Celtic were Scottish champions and coasting to the SPL title. We played the R-word in January, establishing a 7-point lead in the SPL table. We were heading for a fourth title and bemoaning two title blips under Martin O'Neill that had spoiled what should have been a historic run of championships. All was right with the world, right?

Well, not quite. Few of us were actually fooled into thinking we had a good team. Complacency had appeared to set in at every level of the club.

Gordon Strachan had already submitted his notice (as suggested here), despite lies to the contrary. As with almost every man who knows he is marking time in a job, his demeanour changed. He was that bit less angry and more dismissive.

His ideas - when he appeared to have any – increasingly looked tired and predictable. The performances on the pitch were reflective of an attitude that everyone seemed to be guilty of – going through the motions in a slightly disinterested expectation of eventual success.

The team on the park was leaderless, gutless and lacking any spark of creativity or passion. The players turned up, regularly failed to win and went home, only to take the same approach week after week.

The fans were unhappy but there was little that could be recognised as a consensus. Some said the football was boring. Others said they were unrealistic and should be thankful of the inevitable title, however it was achieved. Some questioned the board's fiscal policy. Others told them they were the sort of people who brought Leeds Utd to financial ruin. Some feared for the future. Others told them the club was in the best hands but that average Celtic fans were too ignorant to understand the strides being made at boardroom level. Some were angry, some were bored and, frankly, some didn't seem to give a damn.

But we had one consolation. We were going to win the title because our nearest rivals were an abysmal team, almost totally bereft of talent, and in such a financial hole that there was damn all they could do about it.

Then came the long, cold January of 2009. It is a time that will live in ignominy in the history of Celtic. Rumours abounded that Celtic directors had reneged on promises to improve the team in the summer. The arrival of Willo Flood had all the impact of Neil and Christine Hamilton turning up at a charity event as surprise celebrity guests.

The rest is so much history – the title was lost, the manager vanished, he was replaced with someone who had just had his team relegated after the manager of Burnley turned us down (only to later be lured by the bright-lights-big-city of Bolton). And, yes, we were told lies about that too.

Well, the chickens have come home to roost. On this blog, I expressed concern about the sort of managers Celtic had approached, not even considering someone like Davie Moyes who was clearly interested. But, in truth, I suspected that they would get away with it.

I had a hunch that a new manager would see players more motivated, kick a few backsides, inject a few ideas and comfortably outclass the other teams in Scotland. Shouldn't have been too hard, should it? To outclass St Mirren? Or the Scottish champions who had actually got weaker than that side we were lolling past just 14 months ago?

For those of you who deplore the blame game, look away now. It's high time to indulge in recriminations with gusto.

I blame the Coolmore Mafia's Dermot Desmond, a man with an ethical business record that makes David Murray look like Richard Branson. Brian Quinn has not been forgotten.

I blame Dr John Reid, who spent a lifetime betraying and backstabbing political colleagues to get what he wanted, who had no qualms about killing children in an illegal war, yet has shown no stomach to fight for Celtic.

I blame Peter Lawwell and Eric Riley, partners in crime who have made huge sums of money while Celtic have declined.

I blame the players – nearly all of them – who have shown no sense of understanding that it is a privilege to play for Celtic.

I blame Tony Mowbray, who I urged to resign with dignity several weeks ago, and who appears to lack the most basic footballing intelligence.

I blame the Scottish football establishment and their friends in the media who perpetuate the myth that, just because we are playing badly, we are not entitled to impartial officiating, while another team that is playing badly is gifted points and has players let off scot-free after committing assaults just because of who they are.

I blame the Celtic supporters, who in five years under Martin O'Neill started to think of winning trophies as something that just happened.

I blame the insidious campaign of propaganda and disinformation masquerading as “independent” comment on a certain blog and I blame the adherents to that blog's “party line” who smugly derided fans who just wanted to adhere to Celtic's traditions, including trying to win things. They are perhaps the worst of all. They have embraced decline and declared themselves to be financial geniuses in doing so. Rest assured, the volunteer men who built the first Celtic Park with their bare hands did not do so for the likes of them.

A club and a support divided? So be it. Draw the battle lines, prepare for idealogical warfare. We must root them out, whatever the cost. We are not even serving in heaven, but in hell.

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Summer's no breeze for Tony Mowbray

Well, the close season comes, birds twitter, summer breeze makes me feel fine, blowing through the jasmine...



... and blogs are neglected.

Which is sort of a shame because there has been no proper welcome on here for Tony Mowbray, Mark Venus and Peter Grant. By all that's right and holy, Mogga & co's credentials shouldn't have got them near the interview stage at a club like Celtic but that's by the by. I like who we have in charge and I believe that they can do an excellent job for us.

That task isn't helped by having to fly to the Antipodes to play some exhibition football when they should really be preparing a squad for Champions League qualification. But then in “pursuing sources of revenue“ … “we don''t get Premiership money“ … blah, blah, Celtic always have some sort of excuse.

The truth is, of course, that all these commitments – like the Peace Cup – were made when it was believed that Celtic would win the SPL. The mere matter of adequately improving the squad to make sure that we could play in that nonsensical tournament and travel to the other end of the world without wrecking our chances of playing in the Champions League was surely a technicality.

That's in the past, of course, but not forgotten – and nor should it be.

Tony has made a bright start, attempting to re-awaken that passion and loyalty to the team and manager that disregards the intrigues of the boardroom suits. His job has not been made easier.

The departure of Jan Vennegoor of Hesselink inspires mixed feelings. He was very effective for a time but when the last remnants of pace left his legs, watching him proved to be torture. Personally, I never fully forgave him for stupidly getting sent off as we were going down to an improbable defeat against the R-word at Celtic Park. At that stage, we could still have won the match and Jan's idiocy – with the wry smile that followed – was costly and unbecoming of a Celtic player.

Shunsuke Nakamura was a marvellous footballer, who seems to have been allowed to leave without even being asked to speak to the new manager. He was, after all, quoted as saying he would stay at Celtic “as long as Peter wants me“. We must presume that Peter Lawwell had no further use for him.

Tony himself made the decision to let Paul Hartley go and while it may have been the correct decision in the long term, Paul's professionalism will be missed. I often wonder how large a figure in Celtic's history Paul might have been had he been signed a few years earlier. He has exceptional qualities and Bristol City are fortunate to have him.
So with those three and Bobo gone, “salary-trimming“ is in full swing.

And now we have Marc-Antoine Fortuné, whose signing is a bold move. Most of us are in no position to make judgements on him and the coaches have high praise for a forward they worked with at West Bromwich Albion. However, strikers who score very few goals are an immense risk.

The coaching staff point to the overall scoring rate of the team in matches he plays in. Are they perhaps overlooking the phenomenon of Celtic strikers being penalised when they challenge for the ball? Since certain blue-minded zealots campaigned for special treatment allowing centre-halfs impunity when challenged by Chris Sutton, there has been a constant theme of referees favouring defenders against our strikers.

In part, this accounted for the ineffectiveness of Jan and, unless there is a serious change of culture, Marc-Antoine faces the challenge of his life. We should be patient with him as the Jacksons and Broadfoots of the world are surely waiting to compare him unfavourably to Kyle Lafferty.

We await much-needed further signings and suspect that more players will be asset-managed out of the door. In these circumstances, if Tony Mowbray takes us into the Champions League proper, he will already deserve legendary status.






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